Hell Getting to Heaven
by TheVampireLucinda
Summary: Based on the events of the 2009 Royal Rumble. Shawn Michaels is in the darkness when an unexpected source of light walks into the room and lets him know that sometimes, it's Hell getting to Heaven. One-shot, at least, in theory.


**Title:** Hell Getting to Heaven

**Author:** TheVampireLucinda

**Disclaimer:** Take it as you will. Just know that my Musi have been driving me CRAZY, and if real-Shawn and real-Taker keep interacting, ShawnMuse and TakerMuse are going to continue to hold my brain hostage! Help!

**Summary:** Based on the storyline between Shawn Michaels and JBL. Shawn has been forced, by various circumstances, into an uneasy business relationship with the detestable John Bradshaw Layfield. And although JBL has gone out of his way to make Shawn's life a living Hell, on this night, the night of the 2009 Royal Rumble, Shawn is given a glimmer of hope, and from the most unexpected source...

_A/N: Hey guys, guess who's back! XP I'm so sorry for the long absence...It really was a crazy couple of months, but now, there's been a lull, and I'm free to do...Well, free to write without interruption, haha. In any case, I'm posting a bunch of stuff, because, well, I love you guys and gals a lot. :) Seriously. Thanks to everyone who checked up on me when I was sick, it really does mean a lot to lil 'ole me._

_Alright, enough mushy stuff. It's funny; after being gone for a bit, I feel like I'm new again, and I was a little reluctant to put some of the newer stuff up. But, yeah, I figured, why the heck not, you guys will let me know if it sucks. Right? XD_

_Also, I'm still working on the weirdness that is the Playgirl Mansion...I haven't forgotten. ;)  
_

_Onto the story! (Oh, and btw, I'll put this A/N in the next ones I put up too, just because, haha).

* * *

_Shawn Michaels stood silently in the locker room, looking into a large mirror, thinking over Bradshaw's words. His reflection stared mockingly back at him, asking him questions that he never wanted to ask, and giving him answer that he couldn't bear to accept.

'Is this what I've become?' Shawn asked himself, watching his own blue eyes darken with sorrow.

If his employer—the word made him feel sick to his stomach—won his match against John Cena tonight, Shawn would be absolved of _everything_. His debts would be paid, his spot in the Rumble secured but, most importantly, his freedom would be guaranteed.

Freedom, suddenly, seemed such a sweet word, from the moment Shawn shook Layfield's sweaty, disgusting hand. He had no way of knowing what he was getting into at the time, and even now, he wasn't sure if he completely regretted his decision. Yes, his life was hell, but...

'But now, my family will be safe,' Shawn told himself, the old mantra that helped him get through these past unendurable weeks. 'I did it for them...At least they'll be taken care of.'

Never mind the offer from his dearest friend—an offer made so generously, but without any understanding of the actual situation. That was one of the hardest things for Shawn—the fact that no one truly knew why he made the deal with JBL. Yes, money was involved, but didn't anyone stop to think that there had to be more to it that mere cash?

'If only the problem was money,' Shawn thought, bitterly recalling the night that Hunter had come up to him and offered all he had—and more—to help his dearest companion. 'He's a good man, but...but he couldn't know. He can't. Only I know. Well, me and Bradshaw, and I have no idea how _he_ found out...'

"Michaels, my match is in 10 minutes, get your ass ready!" JBL called from another room suddenly, voice shattering Shawn's thoughts into a thousand irretrievable pieces.

And, now, a short laugh escaped the Heartbreak Kid's fair lips, and it was more a sound of pain than if he had wept aloud.

'I deserve it,' he told to himself, bitter smile fading as quickly as it had appeared. 'They always say that everyone gets theirs when the time comes...I guess my time to go to Hell has come now.' He looked down at the desk his clenched fists now rested on, tears making even his own hands looks distorted and unclean. 'But I wish...I wish that someone could save me...I don't think I can save myself this time...'

With a heavy sigh, Shawn resigned himself to his fate—terrible as it was. He gave up the last hope he held of ever being free again, and forced himself to stand straight, facing the image in the mirror that he now despise: Shawn Michaels, standing alone, nothing more than a slave.

Sighing once again, Shawn turned around quickly, and what he nearly ran into startled him so badly that he couldn't suppress a soft gasp.

The Undertaker was standing there, seemingly having appeared out of the thin air. Shawn blinked, because he was sure he hadn't seen any reflection in the mirror just a moment ago. Even more disturbing was the fact that the green eyes were tinged with an emotion Shawn could only barely identify in the stern, familiar, handsome face before him:

Sorrow?

They stood silently, neither man saying a word, neither man moving an inch.

'I guess the Undertaker feels sorry for me too,' Shawn thought bitterly, and felt the emotions he had only barely been able to contain these past weeks suddenly overflowing his control, as he blinked back errant tears.

The green orbs gazing at him remained motionless, clear and focused, as did the entire being, it seemed, of the Undertaker. Shawn couldn't help but think the worst, initially, and then wondered if "the worst" wouldn't actually be a good thing, all things considered...

_Why are you here? _Shawn asked finally with his eyes and heart, wondering if the tall, dark man not a handsbreadth away could understand. To his surprise, however, not only did the Deadman understand, but he replied in like manner:

_Do you really need to ask?_

Shawn's blue eyes widened even more as a thousand and one questions rested on his lips. He chose, at the last second, to ask the most simple one:

_You...want to speak with me?_

_Yes._

_Why?_

A sudden silence within the silence, and the green eyes seemed to waver for a moment; a slight gesture that made Shawn's heart beat even harder in his chest.

"Sometimes," the Undertaker said softly, rough voice softened with some unidentifiable emotion. "It's Hell gettin' to Heaven."

Shawn blinked again, expecting the Deadman to vanish, for this dream to end, and was surprised when he opened his eyes to see that the Undertaker had not yet left. Against his will, hope blossomed in Shawn's heart, and he dared to press further.

_Are you...helping me?_

_That's up to you._

_Why?_

_I understand your pain. _

_How?_

The Undertaker smiled a small, bitter smile, the perfect reflection of Shawn's earlier agony.

_You forget that I was Bearer's servant on and off for years. And I was a slave to others as well. I know what it's like to be controlled. You can free yourself. _

_Help me to become free._

_I cannot. You must do this yourself, even doing so is unspeakable pain._

_I don't know if I can._

_You can. You must. Have faith, Shawn._

_Mark... Why are you...? Why do you even care?_

"Let's go, Shawn!" Bradshaw's voice boomed into the silence, causing Shawn to blink several times, throwing him once again out of his thoughts. He realized at once that, somehow, only a few seconds had passed, and, even more miraculously, that the Undertaker was _still_ standing in front of him, staring at him intently. Shawn stared back, still unable to completely place the look on the Deadman's face. His own question, still unanswered, brought a tremor to his soul, although he wasn't entirely sure why.

The green eyes remained impassive and unreadable, although they did, for an instant, narrow dangerously, and flickered once with some inner fire that Shawn knew he had seen somewhere before:

His own eyes.

Suddenly more confused than before and feeling a flash of fear, Shawn lowered his head, and began to walk slowly from the silent room. The entire time, he could feel the Deadman's green gaze following him out, hear his words ringing in his head.

"Hell getting to Heaven," Shawn whispered as he jogged to where JBL was. "Hell getting to Heaven..."

"What the hell took you so long?" Bradshaw demanded, hands on his hips. Shawn turned to the bigger man angrily, but remained silent. The Undertaker's words still echoed in his mind and, suddenly, as if a light had come on, Shawn knew what he would—had to—do. He had to risk it all to escape JBL's grasp, because he now had something far more important to deal with:

The Undertaker.

* * *

_Those two...I can't wait to see how things play out up until 'Mania!! I'm so happy!! XD_

_Oh, and, review? XP_


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